


Children, Your Time Is Done

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drama, War of the Ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 11:20:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3726929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faramir waits, and begins to understand. Appearances by Denethor and Boromir.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Children, Your Time Is Done

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

He watches the golden child ride away, leaving one war to join another.  
  
There's a saying that things will always get worse before they get better, but his father's scornful remarks have become commonplace in his day-to-day life, following him around like ghosts ( _a stain on this house of stewards, you have failed me_ ), reminding him of everything that's wrong with too much power in the hands of a single man.  
  
He waits and waits and waits for the iron-clad rider to return home, to stand as a bridge between two towers (one will always stand taller than the other, coveting a throne that never belonged to him), but the days grow long and Faramir understand now that _this is it_ — his battles won't be fought for him anymore.  
  
And still, the laurel leaves of the white tree bloom in the pale morning light, its blossoms waiting out for something better than this.


End file.
